


catch my heart.

by crystallinedewdrops



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: F/M, featuring a very judgmental oriental black cat, just hearteyes-ing talia., people who hate talia dont interact., talia is a film noir fan, this is literally just an excuse to write bruce being absolutely besotted with talia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallinedewdrops/pseuds/crystallinedewdrops
Summary: sometimes, love isnt all about poems & plays about tragedies. sometimes, it's in the way you shake your head and roll your eyes at your lover's dramatic flair, wholly in love with them.or; in which bruce wont say he is absolutely besotted with one lady named talia al ghul.
Relationships: Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne
Kudos: 23





	catch my heart.

the room is spacious and dark, the only light is coming from the fireplace and the city outside--the curtains wide open to allow anyone to view the city, with its lights a multitude of colours, sparkling against the backdrop black of the night sky. from what little he can see, there are paintings on the walls, knowing who this office belongs to, its art pieces no doubt; there are also bookshelves on either side of the fireplace, with leather-bound books lining every shelf. above the fireplace itself, there is a portrait of a family.

he moves his gaze from the portrait to the oak desk, with stacks of paper neatly organized on top of it, the frame being the only personal object on it. off to the side of the desk, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there are couches and armchairs for guests and other people who wish to discuss business with the owner. (he knows this place like the back of his hand.)

he doesn’t care about any of that, pays it no mind. the woman sitting in the high-backed, velvet-covered antique chair--a bit misplaced in this room, if you ask for his opinion, but she never did so he never said anything about it--is the only one that holds his attention. the light from the fireplace casts shadows across her face but he can still see the smirk on her face, he knows of the glint in her hazel eyes like he knows his own heart, beating at a slightly faster pace than usual in awe and--no, he shall not name the other emotion he feels about her; the fire’s light reflects off of the gold jewelry she is wearing.

her long, brown hair is moved to the side and cascades down her right shoulder, and he can see the white button-up blouse with the three first buttons open; she is wearing the necklace that he gifted her, with the jade gemstone at the center of it. he also notices that she is wearing suspenders--how very noir, the only thing missing is a hat on her head and she’d look like she came out of a twenties black-and-white crime movie.

she always had a flair for drama, a flair that matches his own.

it took him a few seconds to realize that there is a cat sitting on the woman’s lap, making itself at home, and the only reason he noticed the cat so belatedly was because, now that he looks, it is a black cat. sleek and curled on the lady’s lap, its eyes trained on him, he feels like he is somehow being judged by it. a hand runs through its coat, slowly, and he can hear the pleased purr the cat makes. (he knows why he did not see the cat until now, but he doesn’t think about it. doesn’t give a voice to that particular feeling that he gets whenever he sees the lady in front of him.)

“hello, detective.” the voice is low, not a whisper but close enough, and it cuts through the silence between them like a knife, and bruce raises his eyes from the cat back to talia, watches as the smirk turns into a smile. he’d know that voice anywhere, even in death. the thought isn’t unpleasant. “how may i be of help to you today?” she asks as if this is an ordinary meeting between the two of them… and perhaps it is. they’ve met in far stranger circumstances than bruce meeting her in her own office, in the penthouse atop one of the apartment buildings in the high-class area of metropolis city.

but he isn’t meeting her here as bruce wayne, multimillionaire philanthropist. he is here on a mission. (as much as he’d have liked it not to be.) so he strides forward to the desk, languid like he got all the time in the world, finally coming out of the shadows--just because he isn’t looking for pleasure doesn’t mean he won’t… be as dramatic as she is being, right now. “there is some information i need,” he tells her, coming to a stop in front of the desk and trails one hand along the edges.

“yes, i thought as much otherwise you wouldn’t have visited me.” there is no bite to her words but he can hear the wistfulness that laces the words, and something in his chest constricts. “what kind of information?” talia straightens herself in the chair, all business; the cat makes a displeased sound at the disturbance of the position and jumps off, possibly going to the couches to take a nap.

(the fact that he knows she’ll help him gain that information, even if it means illegally breaking into a restricted area to get it, makes him feel dizzy with that nameless emotion that he feels blooming inside his chest, warming him from the inside out.)

so he relays what he knows and what he needs to her, watching her brows furrow and knows that she is about to debate him about his plans, knows that she’ll challenge him just like she always does.

and so, they fell into this familiar dance once more. bruce takes comfort in it.


End file.
